Leather is why
by Nika Dixon
Summary: Jen tries to show Ronon her costume for the party. R/K NOTE: "M" RATING Written for the LJ OneSweetLove 14 Day's challenge.


_**Author's Note**: This little story was written for the 14 Day's challenge on LJOneSweetLove. This has an M rating - so buyer beware! :) It's a little too steamy for a T rating, but hopefully everyone will still find it. :) And to all my SGA fellow fans, I'm with you on the whole "crap" thing about the show being removed from air in lieu of DVD movies. May they stick to their promise. In the mean time, we still have our fanfic! :) I'm not giving up! Hope you enjoy this little daliance, and I'm working on the next plot bunny! Hugs and Kisses! - Nika_

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"You are not leaving this room wearing _that_."

Jen frowned at the ferocity in Ronon's voice and turned around to face him. She dropped her hands onto her hips and tilted her head.

The double shot of tequila had been Cadman's idea, and Jen silently praised her friend's insistence on a dose of liquid courage before she attempted to drag Ronon to the party. All she'd done was come to collect him, well, okay, to strongly _suggest_ he should stop being such a wussy and just come to the gathering. She'd barely stuttered out the words _Hi Ronon_ before he'd spun her out of the hallway and into the dimly lit confines of his quarters, the door sliding firmly shut behind them.

She looked down at her outfit, then back up into the Satedan's angry gaze. She was pretty sure what she was wearing wasn't taken out of any Satedan cultural no-no's… not that she'd done any research… but he never seemed to have issues with Teyla… so… okay she was at a complete loss as to his odd reaction. She was still feeling way too new at the whole dating-the-meanest-sexiest-guy-in-the-galaxy thing... maybe she needed to do a little more research because he most definitely looked... upset.

His imposing form blocked the exit, trapping her inside his quarters. With his legs braced and his arms threaded tightly across his chest, he dropped his chin, the responding growl sending a shiver straight down her spine.

"It's a costume." She reminded him. "Remember? Rodney's superhero party? Everyone's having a great time. I just came by to see if you were going to put in an appearance?"

"You've already been there?" He dropped his arms and stepped forward. "Dressed like that?" With a snap of his head, he stepped back again, a frustrated hiss escaping his flared nostrils.

"Yes." Jen said slowly with a shrug and a nod. "Of course. It started two hours ago, at six o'clock, remember?"

"And you're nothing if not prompt." He closed his eyes against a hidden pain then opened them again, piercing her with their intensity.

"Are you okay?" She stepped forward concerned, worry overriding her nervousness.

He backed away with equal intensity.

"I'm fine." He grunted, his eyes shifting quickly to a spot over her head. He stared with such concentration that she looked over her shoulder, seeking whatever it was he was so distracted with. Not seeing anything other than wall space she turned back.

"Okay well…" she hesitated, wondering if perhaps this was just one of those Ronon things. Maybe she should let him be and go back to Laura and Teyla. Obviously she'd made a slight – well, okay maybe not so slight – error in judgment by coming.

With her head angled down she stepped forward, expecting Ronon to move out of her way, and had to quickly slide to a stop when his position didn't change. He was still in the way.

"Um…" She tilted her head back. "You're blocking the door."

He grunted.

"I can't leave if you're blocking the door." She raised her eyebrows hopefully.

"Exactly."

Jen sighed. "I just thought you might want to come, but… if you don't want to go to the party… that's okay. You don't have to wear a costume. It's either or. Plenty of guys aren't dressed up."

"Guys?" His eyes shifted from the mystery spot above her head and locked onto her face.

Jen smiled and nodded. "Yes. Men. Women. Other people. A room full of them. That's what parties are."

"And you went dressed like… _that_?"

"Did you hit your head sparring?" Her eyes narrowed. "Yes, _this…_ is my costume." She waggled her gloved fingers in front of her chest, confused by his reaction.

"What… who… are you supposed to be?"

"Catwoman." She grinned, stepping back so she had room to spin around in a circle. Adjusting the black headband with the delicate, velvet cat ears perched smartly on the top of her head, she grinned. "See? Cat ears. I wanted more of a Julie Newmar than a Halle Berry." She spun around a second time. "Pretty cool huh. Several people said I looked very authentic."

"People…" Ronon exhaled, his hands clenching into fists. "Saw you dressed like that?"

Lowering her chin, Jen tilted her head. "Ronon, are you sure you're okay? You look… funny."

When he didn't answer she sighed and walked forward, the heels of her black leather, knee-high boots making a sharp click-click across the dark tile floor. "Okay well… I'm sorry I bothered you. I just came to see if you wanted to join me. I guess I'll-"

Before she could complete her move past him, he grabbed for her upper arm, spinning her roughly around to face him, his mouth jamming down onto hers with such swiftness she forgot to breathe.

Oxygen sucked sharply into her lungs when he released her lips, her breath staggered and uneven.

"You are _not_ leaving here dressed like that." His voice was harsh and low, the growling timbre sending a pointed tremble through her body. His fingers tightened on her upper arms, heat leaching through the soft leather. He suddenly pushed her away, but didn't release his hold.

"Why can't I?" Her breathless voice finally whispered.

"Leather."

"Leather?"

"Leather." He repeated, releasing her upper arms. "You asked why. Leather is why."

"Leather." She repeated stupidly. He could make her stutter just from a look, and the way he was watching her right now, she doubted she'd be able to string more than two words together.

Backing away, she wobbled slightly as she recovered from the intensity of his emotions. After a kiss like that, her legs definitely didn't appreciate her choice of five inch heels.

Leather, he'd said. What was wrong with leather? He wore it. Was there something specifically wrong with the leather itself?

With a slight slip on her spiked heels she turned to face one of the reflective columns in the corner of his room.

Surveying herself in the mirrored surface, she lead her eyes through yet another head-to-toe once over. She'd repeated the same motion a dozen times before she'd even stepped foot out of her quarters. It was only at Laura and Teyla's insistence that she looked just fine did she allow them to drag her off to the party.

The dark material shone in the soft yellow lighting, the cat-suit snugly wrapped across her entire body, encasing her from ankle to neck in soft, black leather. Only her hands and feet would have been bare, but the black leather gloves with short, pointed black claws, and knee-high black leather boots took care of that. Only her throat and a v-necked peak at the top of her breasts showed exposed skin.

She had to admit, wariness at wearing a leather bodysuit gave way when she saw how unlike her dowdy doctor self she looked. She especially liked how the material pushed her relatively non-existent cleavage into something more Teyla-esque. And the leather was softer than she'd originally anticipated, even with it's constricting tightness. Of course Laura _would_ make sure it was the right size when she'd helped Jen order it. The crazy Lieutenant was an absolute perfectionist.

She thought she looked sexy, but… judging from the expression on Ronon's face as he moved to stand behind her… maybe she'd missed something?

Or maybe she shouldn't have bothered trying to dress to impress.

But then again, she _had_ impressed… at the party at least. A few wandering eyes had definitely given her the once over. But the one who's eyes she _wanted_ to see giving her the looky-look didn't seem to think very much of what she was wearing. In fact, he looked down-right pissed about it.

She just couldn't understand what the heck she'd done wrong?

"Okay." She finally answered with a soft sigh, staring at reflection-Ronon in the glass. "I don't get it. What's wrong with it? I thought I looked pretty good?"

"Good?" He strangled out.

"Yeah." She answered sadly. It was stupid to think she could pull it off in the first place. She raised her hands and looked at the clawed gloves, flipping her palms over the slowly lowering them. She shrugged and pursed her lips at her reflective self. "Guess not, huh."

"Jennifer." He growled when she moved to turn away.

She hesitated, her eyes catching his in the reflection.

He stepped forward, until his back was almost touching her front. She could feel the increase in temperature along her entire backside from his closeness.

"Why did you choose this… costume?"

Jen inhaled slowly, tension charged air filling her lungs. She held the breath, debating her answer. Was it worth the potential pain of rejection in telling him the truth? She exhaled and knowing she'd never be able to lie.

"To look… sexy."

"Sexy." He growled, leaning closer. "At this… party?"

Jen nodded, once, watching him through the reflection. His eyes were so dark now she could barely detect any hint of color. Just a deep blackness that was unreadable. She'd wanted to wear it for him - to be slick and sexy. To see his reaction when he saw her dressed to kill in form-fitting black leather. She just hadn't quite expected this particular effect. Obviously she'd miscalculated her appeal.

"Why tonight?" He slowly angled his head, his nose almost brushing the side of her neck. His breath was hot against her skin and she fought the automatic shiver.

"It's a costume… pretend… not real." She stumbled over the words, her mind suddenly feeling very lost in the closeness of his body, which was touching her in heated energy only. If she leaned oh-so-slightly back she would be pressed completely against his entire torso. Her traitorous body swayed and she locked her knees.

"You want to pretend?"

"No." She exhaled sharply, this time unable to stop the shiver as he nuzzled her neck with the tip of his nose. "Not… Yes. Sort of." His dreads fell down across her front and she couldn't stop staring at the picture they made in the reflection in the mirror.

"Pretend what?"

"That this is me?" She finally answered, goosebumps breaking out across her body as he closed his eyes and inhaled sharply, his nose buried in the leather along the side of her neck.

"This _is_ you." He exhaled. "And _you_… smell like leather."

"Is that… a bad thing?"

He growled again, low and long. "Depends on who's smelling it."

"Oh." She whispered. "Well… you are?"

"Yes." He answered, inhaling again. His eyes opened and caught hers in a deadly stare. "I am."

He slowly trailed his eyes down to the reflected toes of her boots, then moved them excruciatingly slowly back up, crossing her legs, her waist, her torso, chest, neck, and back to her face, which was now flushed with both heat and desire. Good gracious leather was warm.

"Others have looked at you like that tonight."

"Not… quite like that…" She swallowed, her dry throat sticking.

"But they have." He raised an eyebrow.

She nodded. He was close enough to touch if she leaned, but far enough away she could shiver without recourse. The temperature in the room was definitely increasing – as was her ability to breathe.

"Do you know what they are thinking when they do that?" He asked, lowering his chin until it was almost touching her shoulder, his voice brushing past her right ear. "Those men who watched you tonight?"

"No?" She tilted her head to release the shudder that goosebumped across her upper body, and instantly regretted it when he nipped the side of her neck.

"They are thinking... that you look... edible."

"Oh." She whispered, swallowed, then cleared her throat.

He growled again, sending another shiver down her spine, and this time she could feel it in her toes.

"First the boots." He began, his eyes dropping to the reflection of her lower legs.

Jen dropped her chin and shifted her weight, lifting her right leg and rotating her ankle forward so she could see the toe of the knee-high heeled boots. She lowered her foot and moved her eyes back up to his in the mirror.

"They're picturing you with nothing on… but those." He looked directly into her eyes, intensity and storm bearing into her soul. "Wrapped around them while they drive themselves into you."

"They are?" She croaked, jumping forward with a hiss when his palms landed firmly against her hips.

"You move differently when you're wearing them." He breathed, pulling her roughly back against him, rotating her hips gently left then right. She could feel the heavy press of his erection grinding against her tailbone and almost moaned. "They watch you walk away… your hips sliding while you balance… and they want nothing more than to feel you grinding against them while you scream their name."

"They do?" Her voice cracked and she dropped her gloved hands on top of his, pressing the heat of his palms into her hips. She tried to stop his movement but he was much too strong and she was far to weak kneed.

His hands slid slowly forward and down, caressing her thighs before moving to her knees. He squatted slightly behind her, then raised himself up slowly, his hands moving up in tandem with his swollen member as he ground it up across her bottom and into the sensitive area above her tailbone. Her arms fell weekly to her sides.

She hissed out through her teeth when his right hand hovered over her pelvic bone.

His left circled her waist and he held her firmly when she tried to bend away. "When you turn around, and grace them with the view from the front, there's only one thing they're thinking of when you're dressed like this."

"One?" She whispered, forcing herself not to grind back against his crotch.

"How many fingers…" he slipped his hand slowly down between the apex of her legs, sliding his middle finger in between her tightly pressed thighs. "Will fit."

"Oh lord." She gasped.

"One?" He rubbed the finger tightly across the sensitive nub that was pressing through the leather in an attempt to meet his hand.

"Two?" He slipped a second finger in next to the first, sliding it slowly… agonizingly between her legs. Back and forth. In and out.

"Three?" He added a third finger, his hand pressing harder as she moaned. She couldn't stop herself from sliding her feet apart, giving his hand more access, more control.

"Or maybe four?" His pinky joined the other three and her hips bucked, grinding her very tingling, very wet center against the palm of his hand.

It wasn't enough.

"Ronon…" She moaned, her eyes locked on the sight that beheld her in the mirror. Strength and power coiled around her – enfolding her – locking her in place. Her hands rested atop his left arm – holding him holding her. Her head fell back, the added height of the heels giving her a resting place against his shoulder while his mouth moved with small nibbling bites along the side of her neck. Her eyes were wide and unblinking, and her mouth parted while she desperately sought oxygen. His hand slid in and out between her legs, her own body gyrating without care. She couldn't stop herself, and couldn't look away.

"Oh but then they look up." He continued, his mouth moving up to taste the side of her jaw, his eyes catching hers in the mirror. With his right hand very much occupied, his left hand inched up her abdomen, still clutching, still pressing her into his chest, into his hardness. "And they start to wonder…" His hand reached the exposed valley between her breasts and paused, the heat of his index finger tracing a slow, lazy path down across her cool skin. "They wonder... if the leather lies."

His palm skimmed slowly over her right breast and she cried out, her hips bucking against the heel of his hand.

"Are you wearing anything underneath?" His fingers slipped over to the zipper and dragged it lower, exposing more of the flesh between her breasts. When the pull reached her navel he released it, and slid his fingertips up the exposed skin. The tightness of the leather was free now to pull back, and it parted, exposing the mounds of her breasts, but catching on the hardness of her erect nipples.

Her hips bucked when he slid his hand beneath the soft leather and caressed her breast. She cried out. Heat jerked down her torso and she couldn't stop herself from grinding sharply back against his erection, the combination of his hands, his body, his heat, driving her further into oblivion.

"Open your eyes." He commanded softly, and she complied, not realizing she'd closed them to begin with. The picture that met her in the mirror was raw sex and she barely recognized the woman looking back at her. Wanton and wild, face flush and legs spread lustfully, gloved hands clutching the muscular arms of the warrior pressed so tightly behind her.

"This, Jennifer," He pressed harder, sliding his fingers between her legs with force and speed, his voice a low growl against the side of her neck. "Is who you really are."

With a violent tremor she came hard and fast, her entire body bucking, clenching and releasing, over and over while she screamed his name. Her head dropped back, eyes no longer seeing while she rode her release against the heel of his right hand. Light feathery kisses trailed along her jaw and down her neck while she shuddered, weak and helpless. If not for his arms she would have surly collapsed, for she knew her legs were no longer able to hold her.

He slowly straightened, his fingers sliding away from her body, leaving her abandoned. She watched him through heavy eyes as he adjusted the top half of her suit and raised the zipper back to its original location.

He stepped back, but kept his eyes on her as she swayed slightly, her mind fighting to regain it's cohesion and control over her body.

Staring at him in the mirror, she watched the slow, knowing smile creep into the edge of his mouth.

"So… If you want to go to the party…" He shrugged ever so slightly.

"Party?" She blinked, then her brain staggered back to life and she remembered the whole purpose behind her visit. "Party. Right." She inhaled slowly through her nose, then exhaled through her mouth. She turned around to face him, her eyes automatically dropping to the very prominent bulge in his own leather. "You'd let me go? After… after that?" Her eyes rose to his face.

He raised his shoulder, an animalistic gleam of satisfaction sparking through his eyes.

"If you want. I won't stop you."

Jen stared, power in her own make-believe suddenly giving her a flight of fearlessness.

She tilted her head. "Alone?"

"If you want." His stare was purposeful. He was giving her an out. But he didn't want her to go.

She felt the start of a smile tickling her lips and she raised an eyebrow, the challenge met.

She spun slowly away on a spiked heel and took several slow, purposeful steps towards the doorway. The feel of her own wetness slid between the leather and skin making it difficult to walk without wanting to rock her hips sharply side to side in anticipation of what she desperately needed. She deliberately swayed when she moved, placing one heel down with a sharp click, angling her hip, then following dutifuly with the other boot, and rocking the other hip. Putting every practiced teenage drama queen pretend runway walk into the swing she knew she had him when she heard his breath leaving his lips with a sharp, agonized hiss.

She paused in front of his closed door, and turned her head, showing him her profile but not her eyes.

"There's something you forgot to mention." She said matter of factly.

"There is?"

"Smell."

"Smell." She heard him inhale sharply.

"Yes. Because now…" She turned her head away, taking the final, sensually charged steps towards the door access panel. "I smell like leather… _and_ sex. But… if you still want me to go to the party… with all those guys who… according to you… will be wondering how many fingers it takes… and _after_ my boyfriend has left me unsatisfied and alone in a room full of drunk Marines…" she shrugged then swiped her hand over the door control. "Then I guess I should go."

She barely landed her first step into the hallway when his arms circled her from behind and she was swung tightly back into his room, the sound of his growl quickening the blood between her legs.

"Unsatisfied?!"

He flung her unceremoniously over his shoulder and carried her to the bed where he dropped her onto the covers, following quickly with his body, pressing her into the mattress.

"Well…" She slowly traced a gloved claw up his bare arms while he hovered predatorily above her. His arms twitched as she smoothed the scratched skin down with the soft leather of her gloved palm. "I guess I could stay… for a bit longer."

He growled again, sending a rippling tremor through her body. "You guess?"

She nibbled her lower lip, drawing his gaze. "I think you might need to explain the whole issue with the leather again."

The corners of his mouth turned up and his eyes met hers with a dark desire. "You think?"

"I might forget." She whispered against his mouth when he lowered his head, his lips a mere breath from hers.

"You might, huh."

"Yeah… and we wouldn't want that… now would we?"

"No." He answered, nipping her bottom lip. "We wouldn't."

Ronon then proceeded to show her – again, and again, step by excruciatingly delicious step – just why she should keep the cat-suit.

And the boots.

And he elicited a promise. Several times in fact. A promise that she'd never, _ever_, wear the costume, or the boots, for anyone else.

Jennifer whole-heartedly agreed.

But only if he promised to keep the mirror.


End file.
